The Colour of Dust
by Eledhwen
Summary: Sequel to 'Blood Will Out' - alternative Connorverse. **Epilogue uploaded: back in LA. Story complete!**
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: not mine, never will be mine, all Joss's, boohoo!  
  
Author's notes: This is the third in my alternative Connorverse. In this world, Holtz never got to Connor - instead the baby was given up for adoption, and for fifteen years, disappeared from the lives of the Fang Gang. In 'Thicker than Water', Connor discovered his strange origins, and in 'Blood Will Out', he became better acquainted with Angel and those around the vampire. Now, skipping three years, Connor is starting university - but will everything go smoothly?  
  
  
  
Connor tore open the envelope, pulled out the folded sheet of paper, unfolded it, read it, and let out a shriek.  
  
"Heavens above!" his mother said from the kitchen.  
  
"UCLA!" said Connor, waving the letter in her face. "UCLA!"  
  
* * *  
  
His room was spacious and practical, with a bed, a desk, and some cupboards. Connor dumped down the box he was carrying and surveyed it. "Not bad," he said.  
  
His father, grunting with effort, put a suitcase on the floor by the bed, and sat down on the bare mattress heavily. "Too many stairs," he puffed.  
  
"It'll keep him fit, Roger," Connor's mother said, starting to hang clothes in the wardrobe.  
  
"If we'd moved in in the evening," Connor said, "it'd have been easier. I told you the guys at the Hyperion said they'd help."  
  
"We need to get back home, sweetie," Brigitte pointed out. "You know that."  
  
Connor nodded, and began to unpack the box by his feet.  
  
By five in the afternoon, the car was empty and Connor's room was starting to look a lot less spacious. He was puzzling over where to put CDs when his parents came to hug him goodbye, and soon they were gone. He watched the car disappear from the window, and turned back to his dilemma.  
  
He was still busy, tacking posters to the bare walls, after nightfall, but when the hesitant tap on his door came, he pushed a tack into his thumb in surprise. "Owch. Coming!"  
  
Angel's hand was raised to knock again when he opened the door. "Dad. Hey."  
  
"Hi." His father fidgeted. "What did you do to your thumb?"  
  
Connor put it to his mouth to suck it, and said, "bashed it with a tack. It's nothing."  
  
"Can I .?" asked his father, pushing his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.  
  
"I invite you in!" Connor said, holding the door back.  
  
Angel came inside, and stood looking around the room. "You could have lived with me," he said.  
  
"It's too far, you know it is. Anyway this room's not bad."  
  
"It lacks personality," said his father. "I missed you."  
  
Connor put the box of tacks down on his desk, and turned to properly look at Angel. "I missed you too. Have you had a haircut?"  
  
"Cordy made me," Angel said, putting an awkward hand to his head. "Does it look awful? We had to find a hairdresser who didn't mind not using a mirror."  
  
"It's nice," Connor said honestly. "Took me aback, a bit, you looking different. I like it." His father instantly looked pained, and Connor felt dreadful. "I didn't mean different like that, I meant the . image change, it's nice. You could add to it. Wear something not black?" He grinned at Angel, who gradually relaxed into a smile.  
  
"All right, I get the point. Erm. I brought you a room-warming present." He fished in a pocket and brought out a small package.  
  
Connor opened it and discovered a strange wooden mask, painted in different bright colours.  
  
"It's Peruvian," Angel said. "You could put it on the wall, or something."  
  
"It's cool." Connor held it up to his face, and squinted at himself in the mirror. "Very cool. Very you. Thanks."  
  
He came up to his father, and hugged him, and after a moment the hug was returned. "You're almost as tall as me now," Angel said.  
  
"Another inch or so. You always hunch, makes you look shorter than you are."  
  
"Do I?" His father looked slightly put out for a second, and then, after a moment's consideration, straightened his shoulders. "Better?"  
  
"Much," Connor said.  
  
"Hungry?" Angel asked, instantly relaxing again and losing the inch he had just gained. Connor thought about it for a moment, and decided he was. "Mexican?" his father suggested.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
They wandered out into the night, and Connor discovered his father had parked the old black convertible close by. They climbed in.  
  
"Met anyone else yet?" questioned Angel, pulling out.  
  
Connor rested his elbow on the edge of the door and shook his head. "Heard some music. Something loud." His father grimaced. "I guess I will, tomorrow."  
  
"Just be careful," Angel counselled, taking a right turn. "Do you still carry a stake?"  
  
"Of course!" Connor pulled his out of his pocket as proof. "Not that I've really ever used it. Not many vamps in San Diego."  
  
"Well, there are plenty here," his father said, turning into a car park outside a restaurant. "Be careful - please?"  
  
"Sure." Connor followed Angel into the restaurant, and they settled into a corner booth and were handed menus. "Does that mean you won't let me come and help you when I'm not busy?"  
  
Angel looked up sharply from studying the menu. "Let you come and fight?"  
  
"You might need someone to help, in a little while," Connor pointed out, wondering whether to have enchiladas or fajitas. "Gunn and Cordy and Fred might get tired."  
  
"They're only forty or so," Angel said. "Plenty of fight left in them yet. They've been doing it for years. You haven't."  
  
"So, I need the experience," Connor argued, deciding on mixed fajitas.  
  
His father put his menu down and met Connor's eyes. "No. I've taught you to defend yourself, because I think that's important. I don't want you to get sucked into fighting - into killing."  
  
"Demons, Dad," Connor said. "Mon ." He broke off as the waitress came back. "Mixed fajitas, and a coke," he said.  
  
Angel frowned. "Oh - er - chicken quesadilla, please. And beer. Thanks."  
  
"Pleasure," the waitress said, dimpling a smile at them both, and disappearing. Connor turned back to his father.  
  
"Monsters," he finished. "Helping. You know."  
  
"No." The refusal was flat, and Connor raised his eyebrows at his father. "No," Angel repeated. "It's not only for myself. What if something happened to you? What would I say to your parents? I couldn't cope with that, Connor. You're too important to me and to them. I'm glad you're here, glad you got into this university, but I will not let you fight. Understood?"  
  
"Yeah," Connor sighed, and then saw the glint in his father's eye. "All right, yes, I won't ask again." He paused. "I'm going to join the fencing club, though - that okay?"  
  
"That would be wonderful," Angel agreed.  
  
The talk fell to more mundane matters, and soon the atmosphere lightened as Connor described his graduation for his father, and the beach in the Caribbean where he had spent the summer watching girls. The food came, and was good, and afterwards they drove back to the university campus in companionable silence. Angel insisted on accompanying Connor back to his room.  
  
"I'll call," he said, hovering outside the door as Connor tried to locate his keys. "Any . problems, here, let us know, all right?"  
  
"Promise."  
  
There was a sharp bleep, and Angel pulled out a sleek cell phone. "Message from Fred. Vision. I'd better go. Look after yourself."  
  
"Bye," Connor said, watching as his father turned and disappeared down the corridor with a swirl of black leather. He put his key in the keyhole and turned it, and then paused, hearing a click behind him.  
  
"Hi!" Connor turned round and saw a pretty brunette smiling at him from across the corridor. "We must be neighbours," she said, leaning on the doorframe of the room opposite his.  
  
"I guess we must be," Connor agreed, examining the girl with some appreciation. "Connor Abrams," he added, holding out his hand. She took it and shook it with a smile.  
  
"Kirsty Foster," she said. "Who was that guy you were with?"  
  
Connor began to say, "he's my father," but paused, reflecting that these days nobody would even begin to believe him. "He's my uncle," he ended. "My dad's much younger brother."  
  
"Nice," Kirsty said. "Look, fancy a coffee or something? I'm way too excited to be here to sleep right now, and I've not met anyone else yet."  
  
Connor considered the offer, and nodded. "I've got some mugs - you bring the coffee?"  
  
Kirsty grinned. "You're on."  
  
Connor unlocked his door, and held it open for the girl, reflecting that perhaps university would be fun, fighting or no fighting. 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: see chapter 1  
  
"Hit!" the girl umpiring said. "Connor wins."  
  
Connor took off his helmet and saluted his opponent. "Good fight," he said.  
  
"Short fight," the other boy returned, saluting Connor back and wiping his face. "You're good, you know that?"  
  
"Well ." Connor began, and the umpire laughed.  
  
"Course he knows. Glad to have you with us, Connor. Coming for a drink?"  
  
Connor took off his padded breastplate and stuffed it into his bag. "All right."  
  
It was the end of his first week at college, and he was exhausted. He had enrolled on all his courses, and been to classes each morning; two days earlier had been karate and now he was trying out the fencing club. The other fencers seemed to be friendly enough, and they had welcomed him warmly.  
  
Bags in hand, they trooped out of the sports hall and along paths to the campus bar, where the others quizzed Connor about San Diego and where he had learnt to fence, before the conversation moved on to more trivial matters. They sat and drank and talked until people started glancing at watches. It transpired that Connor's opponent in the last fight, a young man named Josh, had parked his car near the dormitories, and the two of them started to walk back there together.  
  
The night was quiet and few people were around. Josh asked Connor about girlfriends and Connor gave him a potted history of his relationships, finishing with his burgeoning friendship with Kirsty-from-across-the- corridor. In return, Josh started to fill Connor in on campus gossip, and they were laughing hard at the story of a practical joke when Connor's bag was pulled off his back.  
  
"Hey!" Connor said, turning round and grabbing the strap of the bag before it left his shoulder. He looked up at the thief, and let go of the bag.  
  
The vampire glared at him from behind yellow eyes, and growled, "Miracle boy."  
  
Connor frowned, puzzled, and then reacted, pushing Josh backwards and grabbing for the stake in his pocket. The vampire moved in, trying to grab Connor's shoulders and baring fangs as yellow as its eyes. Instinctively, Connor kicked upwards, launching the vampire backwards on to the sidewalk. It stood up again instantly, and he ran forward to kick it again. It went down and there was a thud as its head hit the ground, and Connor darted forwards and plunged the stake in its heart. A moment passed, and then the thing exploded into dust.  
  
Coughing, Connor turned to Josh who was standing frozen close by. "You all right?" he asked.  
  
"Did . was that . it exploded!" Josh stammered. Connor nodded, remembering the first time he had seen the true death of a vampire.  
  
"It's all right - it's gone now," he said, hoping he sounded reassuring. He picked up his bag. "Come on, let's get to your car quick."  
  
They hurried along the last few hundred yards, Connor glancing around every few steps. At Josh's car, he almost pushed the other into the vehicle and watched as his new friend drove off before hurrying inside his building and up to his room.  
  
It took Angel only half an hour to get to him, and Connor explained what had happened and what the vampire had said before dying. His father sat with his elbows resting on his knees, frowning.  
  
"I don't like this at all."  
  
"You're telling me that?" Connor said. "I didn't like it either."  
  
"I think you should go home," Angel said. "Go back to San Diego. You never saw a vampire there?"  
  
"Only when you visited," Connor replied. His father winced. "Sorry."  
  
"Well, then it's safe."  
  
"We don't know that," Connor argued. "At least here you're here too. I don't want anything attacking Mum and Dad."  
  
"Have you called them?" Angel asked.  
  
"Too late now. I'll do it in the morning." Connor leant forwards. "What do we do, Dad? That vampire knew who I was."  
  
"We find out who, or what, sent it," his father said. "I'll go round our informants tomorrow. A visit to Wolfram and Hart may be in order." He looked grim and determined. "And I think you should move into the hotel. I don't want you here alone."  
  
Connor opened his mouth to protest, and then saw his father's eyes, full of worry, and he closed his mouth.  
  
"Gunn or Cordy can bring you here when you have classes, I'll pick you up after dark. We'll manage."  
  
Connor nodded. "I guess. Though I was quite enjoying being here."  
  
"I'm sorry," Angel said. "It's not your fault - it's mine. It should only be for a while, until we find who's spreading the word about you." His eyes narrowed. "And then they'll find out that coming at me or mine is a really bad idea."  
  
Standing up, Connor found a bag and started to pack a few things in it. "But why?" he asked, folding t-shirts. "Okay, so I'm your son, but I'm human. Nothing much special about me, really."  
  
Angel passed him his alarm clock. "You know that's not true, Connor. And even if it were, you're special to me. You matter, to me."  
  
Connor paused in tucking underwear into the bag, and smiled at his father. "Thanks."  
  
As they were leaving, the door opposite Connor's opened and Kirsty stuck her head out. "Hey, Connor."  
  
"Hi."  
  
"Are you going somewhere?" she asked, noticing the bag by Connor's feet.  
  
"I'm going to stay with my . uncle, downtown," Connor replied, glancing at Angel. "Just for a bit. I'll be here during the day. Lunch tomorrow?"  
  
"At the café. Okay." Kirsty smiled at Connor, and then dimpled another one at Angel.  
  
"Oh," said Connor. "Erm . Kirsty, my uncle. Kirsty."  
  
"Angel," said Angel, nodding at Kirsty. "A pleasure to meet you."  
  
"You too," Kirsty said, blushing. "I'll see you, Connor."  
  
"Twelve thirty," Connor said, following Angel down the corridor.  
  
They were in the car and driving towards the city when Angel spoke again. "Uncle?"  
  
"Nobody's going to believe you're my dad," Connor said, "not any more. You can be the younger brother of my dad for a few more years. At some point I'll probably have to say you're my older brother."  
  
"And at some point, I'll have to say you're my father," Angel said softly. "I'm not looking forward to that."  
  
"Years, yet," Connor said lightly. "Ages."  
  
"I hope so," his father said. "I hope so." 


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: see chapter 1  
  
Author's notes: for the Lindsey-lovers - the guy's worked his way into this story in a rather tenacious manner, and you will be seeing quite a lot of him in upcoming chapters.  
  
"I really don't think you should be here," Angel said, glancing down at Connor. "Don't you have classes tomorrow?"  
  
"It's eleven o' clock, Dad," Connor argued. "This concerns me. Though I can't see why any lawyer should be at work at eleven at night."  
  
"This," said Angel, looking up at the brightly lit concrete building they were standing in front of, "is not an ordinary law firm. Okay. Stick with me, don't get scared."  
  
Connor nodded, and followed his father inside the building.  
  
Angel ignored the security guards who began to hurry towards them as soon as they entered the lobby of Wolfram and Hart, and they were in the lift and going upwards before any of the uniformed men reached them. On the tenth floor Connor hurried after his father down a corridor and through a door into a huge office. Behind a desk, close to a large window looking out on to the lights of Los Angeles, sat a woman dressed in a smart tailored suit, her brown hair pinned up at the back of her head. Connor thought she must be in her early fifties, but that she still showed the elegance of her youth. She looked up as they entered, and put her phone down.  
  
"Angel."  
  
"Lilah," Angel said. "I don't suppose you're surprised to see me?"  
  
The lawyer's eyes flicked to Connor, and she shook her head. "Not really."  
  
"Good. Then you'll be prepared to answer my questions." He crossed to the desk, leaning over towards the woman. "Who sent the vampire after Connor, Lilah?"  
  
She put her hand up to her neck and avoided eye contact with Angel. "It wasn't us."  
  
"You expect me to believe that?" Angel asked. "We've known each other too long, Lilah - you can't fool me, not anymore."  
  
"Could I ever?" She pushed her chair back. "We found the vampire, that's all. He owed us money."  
  
"Shame about that. You won't be getting paid."  
  
"You killed him?"  
  
Angel smiled. "Connor killed him. Who wanted my son dead, Lilah?"  
  
"Nobody wanted him dead," Lilah said. "They wanted him alive."  
  
"Nice job," Connor muttered to himself.  
  
Lilah started to emerge from behind her desk, but Angel intercepted her before she had taken two steps, standing so close he was almost touching her. She fidgeted, looking down at her shoes. Angel leant in and spoke softly. "Who, Lilah?"  
  
Connor found himself shivering at the cold in his father's voice, and evidently Lilah felt it too as she grimaced.  
  
"Who?" Angel repeated.  
  
"Lindsey." She pushed him away with both her hands. "Lindsey McDonald, all right? God."  
  
"Lindsey?" asked Angel.  
  
"He thinks that he's not yours," Lilah said, waving a hand towards Connor. "He thinks he's his father."  
  
Connor stood open-mouthed, staring at Angel and the lawyer. Angel's eyes narrowed, and for a moment Connor wondered if his father was about to lose control of his demon, but then he turned away from Lilah.  
  
"Come on, Connor."  
  
They did not speak in the car on the way back to the Hyperion. Connor kept glancing sideways at his father, and noticed that Angel's knuckles were white as he gripped the wheel, his teeth gritted. At the hotel, Angel looked like he was about to disappear down to the basement, and Connor caught his arm.  
  
"Dad. Dad!"  
  
Angel shook off Connor's hand. "Not now."  
  
"When, then?" Connor demanded. "Okay, maybe I shouldn't have come with you, but I did, and I heard. Who's Lindsey McDonald?"  
  
Angel turned. "He was a lawyer there, once. He looked after Darla when they brought her back. He had a thing for her - obsession. I thought that was all."  
  
"Now you think he slept with her?" Connor said, and his father swung around properly. "I'm eighteen," Connor added. "Not stupid, Dad."  
  
Angel looked like he was about to protest, but then his stance relaxed and he nodded. "Yeah. She'd have done it, to control him, he was obsessed enough to let it happen."  
  
"And?" Connor asked.  
  
"Darla always said you were mine," his father said, intensely. "She'd been to shamans, asked advice from everyone she could think of. I knew her, I knew her better than anyone. Darla was a lot of things, but she didn't lie." He paused. "Brutal honesty always hurt so much more."  
  
"Then I'm yours," Connor said. "Anyway, I'm not a fool. I know I'm not quite normal, and everyone says I look like you."  
  
"I wish I could be sure of that," Angel said softly.  
  
"Mirrors are overrated," returned Connor. "So what are you going to do?"  
  
"Find Lindsey," Angel said.  
  
"I know that, I mean now."  
  
"Oh." Angel looked at his hands, and shrugged. "I was going to find something to kill."  
  
"I'll lock my bedroom door," Connor said.  
  
Angel smiled, for a second. "Good. Don't worry about this, Connor."  
  
"I'm not worried," Connor said, only lying a little bit. He grinned at his father. "Go on. I'll see you tomorrow evening, I guess."  
  
His father nodded, and after selecting a sword from the weapons cabinet disappeared in the direction of the sewers. Connor went slowly upstairs, and into his room, locking the door behind him and checking the windows before undressing and climbing into bed. But he did not sleep immediately, instead lying awake wondering about this new name that had come into his life - Lindsey McDonald, obsessed with his mother.  
  
* * *  
  
He stood at the edge of the dance floor and watched them move in the patterns of the waltz, meeting each other's eyes to the exclusion of all the other dancers. They made a good couple, he decided, her blonde curls contrasting with his dark locks, tied back and just brushing the lace of his collar. All around were candles and a sweet scent of flowers. Connor smiled, and his parents turned towards him and smiled back before moving through the other dancers, who parted to let them pass.  
  
"Our childe," Darla murmured, her voice low and pleasant.  
  
Angel took his arm, and they walked together as a threesome into a new room - Connor recognised it, his father's bedroom in the Hyperion. There was glass on the floor and clothes strewn around.  
  
"This was where you began," Angel said. Connor met his father's eyes, and stepped back as they turned to yellow. He looked around, wildly searching for his mother, but there was only a pile of dust on the floor. "You killed her!" Angel growled through fangs. "You killed her. You're no son of mine!" He bent towards Connor, teeth bared for the bite. Connor tried to find a stake, tried to defend himself, but the sharp prick of the bite came first. He screamed.  
  
There was a crash, and he sat up in bed, sweaty and terrified.  
  
"Connor!" His father stood in the doorway, wearing only a pair of black shorts and holding a short battle-axe. "What is it?"  
  
Connor took a deep breath, and another, and managed to calm himself down. "Nightmare," he said. "Only a nightmare." He rubbed his eyes. "What time is it?"  
  
"Six," his father said, lowering the axe. "I got in half an hour ago. What was the nightmare about?"  
  
Connor pushed hair out of his eyes, and managed a smile. "I don't really remember," he said. "I don't remember." 


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: see chapter 1  
  
"So how are your classes going?" Kirsty asked, looking at him from over her giant milkshake.  
  
"Good, I guess," Connor said. "Though I could really do without math."  
  
She grinned. "Oh yeah, I agree. I mean, if you need to add something up, use a calculator. Right?"  
  
"Right," Connor said.  
  
"So," Kirsty went on, "where'd you go last night?"  
  
"Oh . my uncle wants me to stay with him for a bit," Connor said, biting into his sandwich and chewing. He swallowed. "Quality time, you know?"  
  
"He lives in LA?"  
  
"He's a private detective," Connor explained, on safe ground for a moment. "Works out of this hotel downtown. The hotel's empty, so there are lots of spare rooms and stuff. It's cool."  
  
"A private detective." Kirsty considered this. "Wow."  
  
Connor nodded. "It's a pretty good job. Not the safest, but exciting. Saving people ." he caught sight of her face, and finished quickly, "people's property, and stuff. You should come and meet the others, at some point. People d . my uncle works with. See the hotel."  
  
"I'd like to," Kirsty said, dimpling a smile at him, and for a moment there was silence.  
  
"Tell you what," Connor suggested, "how about tomorrow or the day after we go to a movie, after classes, and I'll show you the hotel after that?" He met her eyes. "I'd love to, if you want to."  
  
Kirsty dropped her eyes to her milkshake. "Yeah. I would."  
  
Connor found himself grinning like an idiot. Kirsty looked up again, and opened her mouth to say something - but she paused, and her eyes went wide. "What the . what is that?" she said, and Connor turned around.  
  
The demon, wearing leather and clutching a club in large blue hands, roared.  
  
"Get down!" Connor shouted, and swung himself off the bench, trying to whirl his bag round as he did so. The club thudded down and broke the seat in half. Connor edged around the table, keeping it between himself and the demon, and grabbed Kirsty's hand. "Come on, run," he said. "Run!"  
  
Together, they raced across the lawn with the demon in pursuit. Connor dimly heard cries and shouts from around them, but ignored the noise and kept running, tugging Kirsty with him.  
  
"We have to get inside," he panted. "Block a door."  
  
Kirsty said nothing, her breath coming in short, gasped bursts. Connor dragged her up a flight of stairs and into the nearest building, trying three classroom doors before he found one that was open. He pushed his companion inside and dragged a table in front of the door to block it, and managed to haul another table on top of the first.  
  
Kirsty was on the floor, clutching her legs to her chest. Connor pulled out his cellphone and dialled the number of the Hyperion, hoping that someone would be there.  
  
"Angel Investigations, we help the helpless!" Cordelia's bright voice answered.  
  
"Cordy, it's Connor. I need help. There's a big blue demon on campus, tried to attack me. Is Gunn there? I'm in a classroom in the main building."  
  
"Yes. Hang on." He waited, listening to the sound of Cordelia calling for Gunn and telling him to move, and then she came back on the line. "He's on his way. What sort of demon?"  
  
"Big and blue. With a club. Teeth. Mucky fingernails."  
  
"Big and blue. Okay, Fred and I'll get on to looking it up. You okay?"  
  
"For the moment."  
  
"Hang in there, Connor," Cordelia said. "Gunn'll be with you as quick as he can."  
  
Connor turned off his phone and went to sit next to Kirsty. "Kirsty?"  
  
She turned a tear-streaked face to him. "What was that thing?"  
  
"Demon," Connor said. "Someone's coming to deal with it. We just have to sit tight here." There was a scream from outside the corridor, and an alarming crunching noise. He got up and started looking for a weapon. "We'll be okay. Why don't you go and get under that desk over there ." He pointed, at the same time climbing up on another desk and starting to pull at the screen for the digital projector, which was hung on a long steel pole. "And stay quiet, if you can." He gritted his teeth, and pulled, and the screen came down with a clatter. For a moment, he dared not move, but there was no noise from outside, and he climbed down and began to pull the pole loose from the remains of the screen. In a short while he had a fairly decent weapon, and he waved it experimentally in the air, and waited.  
  
There was another scream from the corridor, and the sound of running footsteps. Then, a growl, and a bang from a room a few doors down. Another bang, a bit closer. Another one, closer still. Connor gripped the pole and swallowed. Another bang, sounding as if it were next door to them, and then another one. The door to their hiding-place thudded. And again. Then there was silence, and Connor tried to hold his breath. Now the banging began once more, with a vengeance, the tables blocking the door shaking with each new assault. Connor glanced at Kirsty, and then turned his attention back to the door. The topmost table fell to the ground, and a blue fist came through the wood.  
  
Connor waited. Another fist broke through, and started to tear the door to pieces, and in under five minutes the demon's face could be seen, streaked now with red. Connor braced himself, and as the demon came through the demolished door and towards him, he swung the pole back, and managed to land a cracking blow on the thing's head. The demon staggered, but did not fall, and approached again, raising its club for a retaliating blow. Connor raised the steel pole and aimed it at the demon's club-arm, missing and unbalancing himself, but in doing so missing the downward sweep of his opponent. He managed to stay upright, and tried again, with better luck. The pole met the demon's stomach, and the thing grunted heavily and for a moment looked dazed. Connor repeated his strike, and the demon went down. One more time, and its eyelids flickered closed.  
  
Connor dropped the pole, panting heavily, and looked around for something heavy. In the corner there was a pile of dictionaries, and he picked up three of them and carefully dropped them on the demon's abdomen. There was an unpleasant splat, and the creature stopped moving.  
  
He sank to his knees, and sat watching his felled opponent. In the corner, Kirsty was crying properly now.  
  
Gunn arrived a quarter of an hour later, racing into the room wielding his favourite battle-axe; but he stopped when he saw Connor and the dead demon, and let the axe drop so its blade was touching the floor.  
  
"You got it?"  
  
"I think so," Connor said wearily. "At least, I hit it in the stomach, and it went down."  
  
"Interesting!" said Gunn. "We ain't never had one that did that before. Fred'll be fascinated. You okay?"  
  
"Fine. Kirsty's a bit shook up." Connor waved a hand at his friend, still cowering under her table.  
  
"I reckon we should get both of you back to the hotel," Gunn said, "and take this thing with us. My girl will want to do somethin' with it, and Angel won't be impressed if I just let you go off back to class."  
  
Connor nodded, and together he and Gunn rolled up the corpse of the demon in the projector screen. Speaking gently, the older man helped Kirsty up, and they made their way to the car. 


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer etc.: see chapter 1  
  
Author's note: As for why Lindsey has waited until now to search for Connor, well, all will be revealed in the next few chapters.  
  
Angel was pacing across the lobby, watched nervously by Fred and resignedly by Cordelia, when they arrived. He turned as Connor and Gunn came awkwardly through the door with the bundle of dead demon, Kirsty following behind. Connor thought he had seldom seen such an expression of relief on anyone's face.  
  
"You're safe." Connor dropped his end of the demon and crossed to his father, who after a moment reached out and enveloped him in a crushing hug. "I was so worried."  
  
"He nearly went out and got fried," Fred added helpfully.  
  
Gunn went to her and kissed her gently. "Fred, honey, we have a guest."  
  
"Oh!" Fred said, seeing Kirsty. "Oh! Ah ."  
  
"Hi there," Cordelia cut in, guiding Kirsty to a seat and pushing her gently into it. "I'm Cordelia. Kind of Connor's aunt."  
  
"This is Kirsty, Cordy," Connor said. "She lives opposite me in the dorm. We were having lunch when it attacked."  
  
"Ain't it just awful when that happens?" Fred asked brightly. "They never let ya finish eatin'."  
  
Cordelia raised an eyebrow at Fred. "That's Fred," she told Kirsty. "She talks a lot."  
  
"So what happened?" Angel asked. "You killed it?" He was looking at Gunn, who shook his head.  
  
"No, Connor had it down by the time I got there. I reckon it had its brains or heart in the stomach. Brought it back for Fred to dissect."  
  
Fred's eyes lit up at the news, and she hurried to the bundle to peer inside. Making a face, Cordelia turned back to Kirsty. "Are you hungry? Thirsty?"  
  
"Puzzled, rather," Kirsty said softly. "I mean, I saw it, and I heard it, but was it real? Connor said it was a demon - demons don't exist. Do they?"  
  
"They exist," Cordelia said, with a glance at Angel. "Oh boy do they exist." There was a squeak of interest from Fred by the bundle. "In many shapes and forms. They're not all nasty," another glance at Angel, "in fact, some are nice."  
  
"That one was nasty," Connor said. "Do you think it was ."  
  
"Lindsey?" asked Angel. "Yes. He's determined. Deluded, too." He shrugged. "I said this last night, Connor - Darla always swore you were mine, to the end. Remember, I told you once, when you came to find me? She said you were the one good thing we did together, the only good thing. You're not Lindsey's, you're my son. Got that?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Angel reached out and squeezed Connor's shoulder.  
  
"Eh?" said Kirsty.  
  
There was silence in the lobby as everyone else looked at each other; and finally Cordelia opened her mouth to speak.  
  
"Ahhh! Ow ."  
  
Her hands went to her head, and she put her elbows between her knees and held them their.  
  
"Vision," said Angel, and went to hold his seer. Connor watched in silence - he had seen Cordelia having a vision only once before, and knew that it would take her a short while to recover afterwards. Fred and Gunn straightened from examining the demon's corpse and watched.  
  
"Okay," Cordelia said, eventually sitting up, pressing a hand to her forehead. "Ow. Demonic sacrifice, cellar under 54th Street, there's a girl and a boy - ugh ."  
  
Angel was already at the weapons' cabinet, shoving stakes and a dagger into pockets and selecting a sword. Gunn picked up his axe, said, "Guess I'll get to use this today after all," and they hurried off towards the basement.  
  
"Be careful!" Fred said, already bringing Cordelia water and aspirin. "They'll get there, won't they?" she asked anxiously. The other woman swallowed the pills and nodded.  
  
"I think so. Oh, my head."  
  
Connor beckoned to Kirsty, and still looking bemused she stood and followed him upstairs.  
  
He pushed open the door to his room, stood back to let her in, and closed the door behind them both. She stood in the middle of the floor and turned slowly to look at the pictures and posters on the walls.  
  
"Is this your room?" she asked.  
  
"When I'm here, yes." Connor dropped his bag by the desk and pulled open the curtains, letting sunlight stream into the room. "There."  
  
"I am so confused," Kirsty said after a moment. "First we get attacked by a blue monster; then some guy comes in to save us with an axe; then your kind- of-aunt Cordelia tells me there are demons . Then your uncle starts saying he's your dad, and that is so impossible; and then Cordelia has a seizure and people run off with swords. Connor, what's going on?"  
  
Connor sat down on his bed. "You believe the demon part, right?"  
  
"I guess. I mean, I saw it. I smelt it."  
  
"That's a start, then," he returned, hoping it was a start. "So you can accept demons?"  
  
Kirsty shrugged her shoulders, and came to join Connor on the bed, pleating the cover with her fingers. "Yeah. Kind of."  
  
"Well, that's good," Connor said. He grinned in what he thought was a reassuring way. "Three years ago, I didn't know about demons either. And then I found out I was adopted."  
  
"Oh."  
  
He nodded, remembering the confusion clearly. "Oh summed it up. It was kind of strange. Anyway, I asked the adoption agency, and they sent me a letter which told me to come here. And I came, and there was this young guy telling me he was my dad. So I said it was impossible, pointed out he had to be way too young to be my dad ."  
  
"He is way too young," Kirsty said. "If you're talking about your uncle."  
  
Connor sighed, and looked at his friend, wondering what to tell her. "Do you want the version you believe or the one you don't? The truth or the comfortable lie?" He paused. "Look, Kirsty - I like you. I've been out with girls before, and I haven't liked them as much as I like you. But this weirdness, this is part of me, and I can't escape it. And it might get messy, or dangerous. So either . either I tell you, and you do your best to believe it, or I don't, and maybe you'd better leave." He met her eyes.  
  
She held his gaze for a second and then looked away, around the room. "I like you too." Connor said nothing, and waited. "I really do." Kirsty picked up a baby picture on the mantelpiece, and put it down again. "But I don't know if I can believe demons."  
  
"One just tried to kill us," Connor returned.  
  
"Yeah. Yeah, I get that." She frowned. "Does it get weirder?"  
  
"It really does," he said. "I swear to you, it's all true." He stood up, and unhooked the pencil portrait of his mother from by his bed. "This was my mother."  
  
Kirsty took the picture and examined it. "She's pretty. Oh, wait, you said was . is she .?"  
  
"She died giving birth to me," Connor said, but he remembered his dream from the night before. "Her name was Darla."  
  
Slowly he told the story, and Kirsty listened, her eyes turned down to examine her hands as Connor talked. He told her all he felt he could, reflecting as he did so how absurd the whole thing sounded. At the end she nodded.  
  
"That's weird all right."  
  
"But it's true," Connor said, wanting her to believe him.  
  
"I see it could be," Kirsty replied, slowly. "Is it going to be all right, with this other guy, and everything?"  
  
"I don't know," Connor said. "I just don't know." 


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: see chapter 1  
  
"Lindsey McDonald!" Cordelia said in triumph. "1295 Green Mile, Oklahoma City. Teaches guitar, it says here." She looked up.  
  
Angel crossed to her, took the piece of paper she was brandishing, and gave her a hug. "Thank you, Cordy."  
  
"Aren't you going to call him, or something?" Cordelia said, as Angel went to the weapons cabinet and stood in front of it, contemplating the rows of swords and axes. "Angel ."  
  
"Connor and I are taking a trip to Oklahoma," Angel said, selecting a variety of weapons and beginning to put them in his bag.  
  
Cordelia jumped to her feet. "But . Angel, you can't! It'll take you ages just to get there. And what if he isn't actually there when you arrive?"  
  
"Okay, then call him, once a day. Check he's still in town," Angel replied.  
  
"What about my classes?" Connor asked, from the sofa in the corner.  
  
"Can't you catch them up later?" his father asked, turning around.  
  
Connor shrugged. "I guess not. Can't we get him here? So you're on home ground?"  
  
"He knows LA," Angel said, "and if he were here, he'd have Wolfram and Hart too. We have to go there. Call your teachers, please, Connor." He turned back to the bag of weapons, and Connor exchanged glances with Cordelia, before going to the phone.  
  
Cordelia put her hand on it. "You can't do this, Connor," she hissed. "Your classes are more important."  
  
"Well, on balance," Connor said, "my life is most important. I know what you mean, but ." He met her eyes. "Cordy - please?"  
  
She frowned, and nodded, lifting her hand from the receiver so Connor could dial.  
  
They left half an hour later, some bags in the boot carrying clothes and the weapons, and a cooler containing blood for Angel. In the back of the car there were two thick blankets.  
  
"Keep in touch," Cordelia told them both sternly. "I want calls, every day."  
  
"Promise," Connor said, hugging her. "Look after yourself too."  
  
Cordelia nodded, and turned to Angel. "Be careful," she said, hugging him too. Angel kissed the top of her head.  
  
"We'll be fine. See you soon."  
  
Connor, craning backwards, saw that Cordelia stood outside the hotel and watched them go. He turned forwards again and settled more comfortably in his seat.  
  
"I'll drive the nights, you can do most of the days," his father said, both hands resting loosely on the wheel.  
  
"This car?" Connor said. "Sure." He thought of his mother's small blue car and the way the engine refused to start two mornings out of ten, and grinned at the idea of driving Angel's convertible.  
  
His father reached out a hand and turned the radio on to a classical station, and as the city flashed by they sat in silence, each occupied with his own thoughts. Connor watched Angel's concentrated face, and finally spoke.  
  
"Why are we doing this?" he asked, turning the radio down.  
  
"Why?" Angel glanced at him. "I'd have thought that was obvious."  
  
"No, it's not," Connor said. "You've told me you're sure I'm your son. I'm sure I'm your son. So why drive to Oklahoma to prove it?"  
  
"Because he'll keep sending the demons until he has you," his father returned. "Nobody, especially Lindsey McDonald, gets to do that."  
  
Connor leaned his arm on the edge of the door. "What is it about this guy that gets you so worked up, Dad? I've never seen you this mad about anything."  
  
"I'm not mad," Angel objected.  
  
"Yes, you are," returned Connor. "You've got that concentrated look, only worse than I've ever seen it. Worse even than when you came to San Diego the first time. Why?"  
  
"You don't really want to know," Angel said softly.  
  
"No, you don't want to tell me," his son said. "I do want to know, that's the problem. there's lots about you I want to know and don't. You always ask about me, but never tell me anything about you."  
  
"I write," Angel said.  
  
"Yeah, those letters," Connor said. "I like getting them. But they never really say anything about you, it's always about Fred and Gunn and Cordelia. And they tell me all that themselves, by email."  
  
"I don't like email," his father pointed out.  
  
Connor nodded. "I noticed. But even in the letters, you never say how you feel. Whether you're happy, or tired, or anything. I feel like there's times when I don't really know you, although you're so much a part of me."  
  
Angel said nothing for a few minutes, his eyes on the road. "I guess," he said eventually, "I guess I'm scared."  
  
"You kill demons for a living!" Connor said. "What are you scared of?"  
  
"That if I start to tell you more about me," his father replied, "that I'll lose you. It's not pretty. Only the last quarter of a century has nice parts. Most of the good bits you know, you were there. The rest ."  
  
"I had a dream the other night," Connor said, turning slightly towards Angel. "When you came rushing in. I think I dreamed about Darla - about my mother. And you. It was some old building, and you were in old-fashioned clothes, dancing. You had long hair. She smiled at me." He paused. "And again last night, too. She was singing a song, and she seemed so sad - and I realised I didn't know anything about her, apart from what she was and how she died. And I barely know anything about you, apart from what you are and who you are. I'm eighteen, remember. I can cope with some blood and violence."  
  
"It's not just some blood and violence," Angel said. "It's centuries of horror. How do you know you can cope? I can't."  
  
"I don't care," Connor said, a little petulantly. "I want to know. We have hours, days now - you can talk, and tell me. Start with Darla. Who was she before she . died, the first time, I mean?"  
  
His father overtook a truck, and settled again to a cruising speed. "She never said anything much. But I did some reading, when she came back the last time. I don't know what her real name was. I do know she was from New England, one of the early settlers. She may even have been born there." He looked at Connor. "And I know she was . she was a prostitute."  
  
"Oh." Connor digested the information. "Really?"  
  
"It's what nearly killed her, as a human," Angel said. "A syphilitic heart condition, fatal in those days. The books say she was on her deathbed when he came for her."  
  
"When who came?"  
  
"The Master." Angel paused. "Imagine . imagine a bat's face, combined with a vampire's. Big ears. Flat nose. Fangs. That was what the Master looked like. He was ancient, older than any other vampire I've ever met, and he'd got to the stage where he couldn't pass as human. He chose Darla, and turned her. There's strong blood in my line - it's the Order of Aurelius."  
  
"What does that mean?" asked Connor.  
  
"It's like a class system, almost," Angel explained. "Some vampires belong to an order, or a clan, led by the oldest vampire within that group. Some orders stretch back two millennia - the Order of Aurelius is one. Nobody was ever able to tell me who Aurelius actually was, but I think he may have been Roman. When Darla was turned, the Master was a vampire called Heinrich Nest. German, once. He's been dust since Buffy slew him."  
  
"Buffy killed him?" Connor said, his mind flicking to the diminutive blonde woman and her friends in Sunnydale. "Cool. Who's the Master of your Order now?"  
  
"Well," Angel said, "I think it might be me. As far as I know Darla was the Master's last surviving childe, and I was hers. It's a moot point. I don't intend recalling the order to find out."  
  
Connor thought about this. "You could set a trap and get rid of a whole load of vamps if you did."  
  
His father smiled briefly. "Maybe. Anyway, Darla voyaged the world, crossing the Atlantic at some point, and in 1757 she wound up in Galway."  
  
"Where there was you," Connor said.  
  
"Yes." Angel signalled and turned into the slip road for a junction. "Eldest son of a merchant. Layabout and good-for-nothing. I should have been doing something useful with my life, but I pretended to work for my father and - and spent the evenings getting drunk and sleeping with half the town."  
  
Trying to imagine his father drunk and hitting on girls made Connor laugh, but he stifled it and said, "Go on."  
  
"I was drunk the night Darla arrived. Had a fight, I think - it's not very clear. I think we got thrown out of the tavern. Then I met Darla; saw a pretty woman, rich, a stranger, and thought I'd try my luck. She killed me."  
  
"She killed you. Then what?" Connor said.  
  
"Then, they buried me." His father turned dark eyes on him. "They buried me." 


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: see chapter 1  
  
Author's notes: Real Life has taken over, so updates might not be very frequent for a while. I'll endeavour to do my best.  
  
Connor woke up in the shade of a gas station, the first heat of the sun filtering through the metal roof.  
  
"Morning," Angel said.  
  
Connor yawned and stretched. "Morning. Where are we?"  
  
"Still in Arizona," his father said. "If you're not too tired, maybe you could take the wheel and I'll get under cover in the back. This place sells food and drink too."  
  
Opening the car door, Connor climbed out and felt his limbs twinge with the ache that comes from not having enough legroom. "All right, I'll go and grab something to eat and we can get moving again. How long have we been stopped?"  
  
"Only half an hour," Angel said. "It was getting too light to carry on, and I saw this place and grabbed the chance."  
  
"Sensible." Connor grinned at his father and went into the little shop, where he bought a sandwich and a drink and some potato chips for later. Coming back to the car, he found that Angel had already put the cover of the car up and had got into the back, where he was lying on the floor between the front and back seats, covered in a blanket. "You'll boil," Connor pointed out.  
  
"I don't get hot," Angel returned, his voice muffled by the blanket. "And even if I did, rather that than fry. I'm going to try and sleep a bit, okay?"  
  
"Sure," Connor said, getting into the driver's seat and adjusting the mirrors before slipping on his sunglasses. He turned the key in the ignition, put the big car into gear, and set off slowly.  
  
Ten minutes later he was on open, empty highway and was starting to feel a little more confident, pushing up his speed to a comfortable 55 miles an hour. The car was powerful and the wheel comfortable, and he settled to driving with a grin on his face. From the back there was no sound, and after a while Connor turned the radio on quietly, hoping that it would not disturb his father's sleep.  
  
He stopped once before lunchtime, to stretch his legs again, and then found a shady parking space under a useful tree two hours later. The car was radiating heat, and Connor himself was sweating under the cover. He wished he could put it up and get some air moving through the car, but he resigned himself to a break under the tree and settled down with his back to it to eat.  
  
There was nobody around, and the road was silent and empty for miles. Connor munched his sandwich and listened to the soft ticking of the convertible's hot engine and the click of the cicadas. He felt perfectly relaxed and strangely happy, considering that he was on a madcap mission with his vampiric father to wreak some sort of revenge on a man who certainly was not related in any way.  
  
Connor rolled his sandwich wrapper into a ball and threw it into the trunk of the car before getting in and setting off again due East. They were in New Mexico now and the sun was high in the sky. The highway stretched on straight in front of him in one long shimmering ribbon.  
  
An hour into the afternoon, Angel shifted in the back and spoke, his voice slightly muffled by the blanket.  
  
"Where are we, Connor?"  
  
"Afternoon," Connor said. "New Mexico. We'll be into Oklahoma before dark."  
  
"We've made good progress, then," his father said.  
  
"Did you sleep?" asked Connor.  
  
"Yes. Not very well. I can't stretch out."  
  
"You should've bought a station wagon or something," Connor said. "Not that I don't prefer this car, but something bigger would be more practical from the hiding from the sun point of view."  
  
"I do have some taste," Angel said. "And I like old cars. What's the scenery like here?"  
  
"Dull," said Connor. "Desert and cactuses."  
  
"Cacti."  
  
"Cacti, then. That's about it. I found a tree to have lunch under. Are you going to go back to sleep?"  
  
"I doubt it."  
  
"Talk, then. Go on from where you left off last night."  
  
"Where I left off."  
  
"You were buried," Connor said, his eyes flicking to the rear view mirror and seeing the empty back seat.  
  
"I was buried, yes." His father fell silent for a while, and as Connor was about to prompt him again, said, "have you ever been in a really dark place?"  
  
Connor thought, and decided not. "No. There's always some ambient light."  
  
"Not," Angel said, "in a coffin. I remember opening my eyes, and seeing nothing; feeling absolutely ravenous; and feeling the airlessness of wherever I was. I think I tried to breathe, and failed, and then I started to get out. Somehow I knew I had to get out, get up, and I kicked and scrabbled, broke the coffin seal and pushed the lid up enough to get through to the earth. It was pretty loose, actually, because they'd only just filled in the hole. So I dug, upwards."  
  
Connor grimaced, trying to imagine being buried, and hoping it never happened to him.  
  
"When I came out, Darla was waiting for me." There was a pause from the back seat, and Connor heard his father shifting. "She said that this was the world, and who did I want out of the village. I . I said I'd take the whole village." Connor said nothing, and waited, keeping the car straight, his hands gripping the wheel a little harder now. "Tell me to stop, if it gets too much, Connor."  
  
"Yeah. All right."  
  
"So we went to my old house. It was night, they were all asleep, apart from my sister. Kathleen. She had a room on the first floor, with a great old oak tree growing up by the window, and a light came from it. Darla went off, telling me I had to do this alone, and I climbed the tree. Kathy . Kathy always used to let me in if I was home late, and she was sitting up that night, praying." Connor heard a catch in his father's voice. "So I tapped at the window, and she came and opened it, and didn't seem surprised to see me. She invited me in."  
  
There was a long pause from the back of the car. The radio hissed static, and Connor turned it off.  
  
"So . so I killed them, all of them. Kathy, and my mother, and my other sister and brothers, and finally my father. And the power felt so good, I felt like I could have the world. I sat and waited for Darla in the kitchen with my father's body at one side of the room, and I didn't care. That was the night my family died."  
  
Connor said nothing, and waited. Eventually, Angel continued.  
  
"After that, we did go through the town. We left it ravaged, and went on to Dublin. Darla made herself known to the vampires in the town and we got the run of the place." His father sighed, audibly. "I suppose at the time we were happy, in the way only vampires can be. Now you see why I didn't want to tell you this?"  
  
"I guess," Connor said. "Yeah, I see. But I still want to hear it. I guess I feel I need to hear it, to understand you. Can you go on?"  
  
After a while, Angel did go on, and Connor listened and drove as the afternoon drew on and the night began once more to fall. 


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: see chapter 1  
  
"This is it." Angel slowed the car and they peered out at an anonymous low- rise apartment block. Connor checked the address again.  
  
"Yeah, this is it." He glanced at his father. "So, what happens now?"  
  
Angel accelerated away and turned left at the end of the road. "We go and see if he's in. I guess he won't be."  
  
They found a parking space down the next street, and got out of the car. Angel went to the trunk and pulled out one of his short swords, attaching the sheath to his belt and making sure that his coat covered it. He passed Connor a dagger.  
  
"Put that in your pocket, but don't use it."  
  
"Then why are you giving it to me?" Connor asked.  
  
Angel closed the trunk and locked the car. "Just in case. But I'm serious. Don't use it, unless it's against a demon. All right?"  
  
Shrugging, Connor nodded. "Okay."  
  
His father smiled briefly. "Right then."  
  
The apartment block proved to be manned by a concierge, who came out at the ring of the bell. "Can I help you?"  
  
Angel smiled. "Yes. I'm looking for an old friend. Lindsey McDonald. He said to call and see him if I was ever in town, and here I am."  
  
"Mr McDonald's out this evening, I think," the concierge said. "Playing a gig at one of the bars downtown."  
  
"Could you tell me which one?" Angel asked.  
  
"Sure." The concierge disappeared inside his small office and came out again with a flyer. "Here. It's the Silver Bell. Bar on Third Street. Can't miss it." Angel took the flyer and tucked it away. "Should I tell Mr McDonald you called?"  
  
"No need," Angel said. "We'll go by the bar. Thank you for your help."  
  
Connor smiled weakly and followed his father out. "Nice performance."  
  
"It worked," said Angel shortly.  
  
Back in the car with a map open, they found their way downtown and parked again. Connor fell into step beside his father as they headed towards the sign of the Silver Bell, illuminated in neon blue, and tried his best to look twenty-one.  
  
Inside, the bar was busy, bustling with a variety of middle-aged couples and groups of younger people. There was a buzz of chatter around the tables close to the door, but as Connor followed Angel through the crowd into the bar proper he noticed that the conversations were fewer, and a strain of music threaded its way into the atmosphere. Someone was playing the guitar and singing, a gentle, mournful piece.  
  
Angel slid into an empty seat and Connor took the one next to him, and shadowed in their corner they looked towards the low stage at the far end of the bar. A spotlight illuminated the musician, a slight man with a mane of greying hair whose hands caressed his guitar. Connor glanced at his father, and knew by the vampire's set expression that this, at last, was Lindsey McDonald.  
  
He turned his attention back to the song, which ended with a short ripple of chords. The audience broke into sustained applause, and Lindsey McDonald acknowledged them with a short smile.  
  
"He's good," Connor found himself saying, and Angel turned to glare at him.  
  
"Why does everyone always say that?"  
  
"I'm not saying I like him, just his music," Connor said, defensively. "You've really got a thing about this guy, haven't you?"  
  
"He'd be happy to see me dead, and the feeling's mutual," said Angel. "Though we parted calmly, I guess. Still, that was before he tried to have you taken."  
  
He broke off as a waitress came to their table. "What can I get you guys?" she asked, wiping the surface down quickly.  
  
"Two beers," Angel ordered. "Do you know when this set finishes?"  
  
"Fifteen minutes or so, I guess," the waitress returned.  
  
Angel thanked her, and she hurried away.  
  
They waited in silence. Connor passed the time by alternately watching Angel and the man on stage, and sipping his beer. Lindsey McDonald played three more songs, and then, after thanking the audience, stood up and started packing his gear away. Finally he slipped on a battered leather jacket and made his way towards the exit.  
  
Angel, with a nod at Connor, got up to follow him, and they wove through the crowd and outside into the cooler night air. McDonald was a short way ahead, heading towards a battered old car parked alone a few hundred yards away. Angel quickened his pace, and Connor had to lengthen his step to keep up.  
  
They reached the car just as Lindsey McDonald was shutting the trunk with his guitar inside. Angel put his hands in his pocket and waited silently. Connor thought it best to stay out of the way, so he leaned against a nearby wall.  
  
McDonald turned. Angel said, "Hello, Lindsey."  
  
"Fancy seeing you here," Lindsey McDonald said, calmly, and stepped around the vampire to reach for the driver's door handle.  
  
"Why am I not surprised that you're not surprised to see me?" Angel asked, his tone equally cool.  
  
"Figured you'd be popping by sometime soon," the ex-lawyer said. "You want to discuss this here, or back at my place?"  
  
"How do I know you'll let me in when we get there?" asked Angel.  
  
"I don't want another door broken by you," McDonald said. "Yeah, I'll let you in."  
  
Angel pulled his car keys from his pocket and threw them to Connor. "Go and get the car," he said. "I'll wait here, with Lindsey."  
  
Connor caught a brief glimpse of a pair of piercing blue eyes and a face turned in his direction. He caught the keys and nodded towards Angel. "Okay."  
  
He hurried away to the convertible, parked at the other end of the street, and drove it back to Lindsey McDonald's car. By the time he reached them, the man claiming to be his father was inside the vehicle, the engine running, with Angel next to him in the passenger seat. Connor reached out and locked the doors of the convertible, and then followed McDonald back to his apartment.  
  
Nobody spoke as they climbed out of the two cars, and followed Lindsey McDonald inside the apartment block. The concierge popped his head out of the little office and said cheerily, "You found your friends, then, Mr McDonald?" McDonald smiled thinly and led the way up the stairs.  
  
On the third floor he unlocked a door, glanced around, and pushed it open. "I invite you in," he said, waving a hand, and Angel and Connor came in and closed the door behind them.  
  
The apartment was furnished simply with a couple of armchairs and a sofa upholstered in brown fabric. Some pictures hung on the beige walls, and a half-open door showed a small, neat kitchen. McDonald propped his guitar in a corner and went across to a drinks cabinet, pouring himself a glass of whisky. He turned around with the glass in hand.  
  
"So you're Connor," he said, meeting Connor's eyes with the bright blue gaze. "I'm Lindsey McDonald." 


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: see chapter 1  
  
Author's notes: Real Life really got in the way of writing recently, hence the huge long delay in posting this part. I hope to be a little quicker in getting the next chapter up.  
  
"Hi," Connor said, returning Lindsey McDonald's gaze equally. "I'm Angel's son. You must be the guy who's been trying to kill me."  
  
Lindsey McDonald flicked his look to Angel, who was smiling a little. "Got him well trained, Angel." He turned back to Connor. "I wasn't trying to kill you. I just wanted to see you."  
  
"You must've forgotten to tell the demons that," Connor said, suddenly not liking the cold blueness of McDonald's eyes at all. "Because they seemed like they really wanted to kill me."  
  
"And I guess you had to call him in to rescue you, eh?" McDonald said, gesturing at Angel.  
  
"He killed them himself," Angel said quietly. "If you wanted to see him, Lindsey, all you had to do was call me. You think he's yours - why put him in danger? And why wait until now?"  
  
Lindsey McDonald sat down, but Connor and Angel both remained standing. "I didn't want his adopted parents worried. You don't matter. I hoped it would be easier in LA."  
  
"But why not write to me?" Connor demanded. "Why get me kidnapped? You could have sent a letter. That's what Dad did. Left a letter with the adoption agency."  
  
McDonald waved his glass. "Seemed too simple. I worked for Wolfram and Hart too long. Nothing's ever simple with them, except death."  
  
"Death," said Angel, still softly, "is always simple."  
  
Connor felt a shiver run down his back at his father's voice. Angel took a step forward.  
  
"So you slept with Darla, did you, Lindsey? When she was still human, or afterwards? Must have been afterwards, surely, when you thought you were looking after her?"  
  
"When I was nursing her back to health after you set her on fire," Lindsey McDonald returned. "Yeah. I wasn't kidding myself. I knew what she was, what she had been."  
  
"You never knew Darla," Angel said, scornfully. "Nobody really knew Darla, not even me. What was her real name? Where did she come from? She never told me."  
  
"I cared for her," Lindsey insisted. "She meant something."  
  
"She made me," Angel said. "She didn't do that for you, Lindsey. She didn't choose you, drain you, feed you, she wasn't there for you when you awoke, she didn't spend a century and a half with you. She was part of me, I was part of her. I killed her."  
  
"I helped bring her back to life," McDonald returned, his voice showing some anger. "And then I helped her when she needed someone, when she was close to dying, again."  
  
Angel shook his head. "No. She would have recovered without your help. She was too strong, I knew that. So she slept with you. But she slept with me, too, and she told me that Connor was my son. My son, Lindsey." Connor said nothing, and watched. "Did she ever tell you she was pregnant?"  
  
Lindsey McDonald swallowed his whisky. "No. But I'd left town by then. Evil hand and all." He waved his right hand at Angel. "Remember?"  
  
"All too well," the vampire said. "How's that going?"  
  
McDonald shrugged. "Fine. Thanks for asking."  
  
"So Lilah told you? You kept in touch with her, didn't you, Lindsey?"  
  
"Yeah. And? You have a problem with that, Angel?"  
  
Angel folded his arms. "Not my business, is it - until you make it my business. Connor is my son. You wanted to see him, you've seen him, that's it. No more demons. No more vampires. No more Wolfram and Hart. Stay here, play your guitar, stay away from me and mine."  
  
Lindsey McDonald lay back in his chair, nonchalant. "Fine. Have it your way. What does Connor say about that? You're what, eighteen? Mind having him tell you what to do?"  
  
Connor glanced sideways at Angel, whose glare had got even more dark, and then looked back at Lindsey McDonald. "The way I see it," he said, "is that when you're Dad's age," he accentuated the 'Dad' purposefully, "everyone's just a kid to you. And anyway, my adopted parents treat me the same. So no, I reckon I don't mind."  
  
He met his father's eyes, and smiled, gaining a brief glimmer of a smile in return.  
  
"Then you're a fool," Lindsey said, cutting in on the moment. "Both of you. You just accepted it when he told you what he is, Connor? Did you tell your other parents - Brigitte and Roger, aren't they? You didn't think for a moment he might be spinning you a yarn? The Irish used to be known for telling tales."  
  
Angel laughed, shortly. "Come now, Lindsey. You've forgotten something. Lying was something I could never do, with my soul or without it. I never had the touch for blarney."  
  
The ex-lawyer looked past Angel. "Well?"  
  
"I guess I just knew," Connor said. "My adopted parents took it calmly enough."  
  
"So I guess that's it," Lindsey said. "No going back." He reached for the whisky bottle and poured another generous shot. "While you're here, though," he added, swirling the liquid in his glass, and studying it, "will you do one thing?"  
  
Looking sideways at his father, who was still glaring with folded arms, Connor said guardedly, "what?"  
  
"Come and have brunch with me. Tomorrow. In a diner, broad daylight."  
  
"Why?" Angel said.  
  
"Because whoever his father is, we know Darla was his mother," Lindsey returned. "Maybe it was stupid of me, but I did love her. He's all that's left."  
  
There was a heavy silence in the room. Then Angel took the last few steps separating him and the former lawyer, and looked down at Lindsey McDonald. "Brunch."  
  
"Just brunch." McDonald spread his hands. "No strings."  
  
"It does sound . safe," Connor volunteered.  
  
"He meets you there, ten o'clock," Angel said. "He calls me. If he's not back in our motel by noon, I'll make damned sure I find you, Lindsey. Daylight or no daylight. If my son isn't safe, it'll be more than your hand at stake."  
  
"No strings," Lindsey repeated. "Red Sun Diner, corner of Seventh and Lincoln. Ten am."  
  
Connor nodded. "Okay."  
  
His father stood staring down at Lindsey McDonald for a moment, and then turned away. "Come on, Connor."  
  
Neither of them said anything until they had found a motel with a vacant room and had checked in. Angel locked the door and closed the curtain, and took a plastic bag of blood from the coolbox and swallowed it straight down without shifting into his vampiric face.  
  
"So that was Lindsey McDonald," Connor said, once the bag had been thrown into the trashcan.  
  
His father sat down on a bed and closed his eyes. "Yeah."  
  
"You can tell he was a lawyer."  
  
"He's a heartless bastard," Angel said with some heat.  
  
"Coming from you," Connor said, joining his father on the bed, "that's saying something. I guess you want me to take a weapon tomorrow?"  
  
"I think you had better," Angel said. "I don't think you should be going, really. Be careful."  
  
"I will," Connor said, and he meant it. 


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: see chapter 1  
  
Author's notes: I know this is going veeeeery slowly. Apologies. I think it's nearly finished though!  
  
Connor patted his side, where the cool steel of his father's best dagger was muted by a sheath, and felt his pocket for a stake, before entering the Red Sun Diner. The ex-lawyer was already inside, cradling a mug of coffee in front of him. Connor slid on to the opposite bench.  
  
"Morning," he said. Lindsey McDonald smiled a half-smile back.  
  
"Morning. I'm glad to see you - I thought Angel would have stopped you from coming in the end."  
  
"When it comes down to it," Connor said, "I am eighteen. He can't order me around, and anyway he wouldn't order me around." He pulled out his mobile phone. "Having said that," he added, "I have to call him." He dialled, and after a moment Angel answered, sounding wide awake. Connor reassured his father everything seemed fine, and rang off.  
  
"So why are you here in Oklahoma?" McDonald questioned. "I'd have thought you'd have wanted to stay at school."  
  
Connor picked up the menu and frowned down at it. "Because I was interested, I guess."  
  
"In me?"  
  
"In you, and in what Dad would do to you."  
  
Lindsey laughed sardonically. "He's all talk and no action. Lost his bite."  
  
"Literally."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
The waitress came over, beamed at them both, and Connor ordered pancakes with syrup and juice. She went away, and he turned back to his companion. "So tell me about Darla."  
  
"About Darla?" Lindsey repeated. "Darla . she was beautiful. You know, when I first saw her, she was just reincarnated, and was a mess, but she was still beautiful."  
  
"A mess how?"  
  
"Physically. And mentally." Lindsey shrugged. "You try coming back from the dead. Took her a while to recover, but she spent a lot of time with me while she was doing so. I saw her when she was human."  
  
McDonald paused while the waitress served Connor's brunch. Connor took a long drink of juice. "Did she like being human?"  
  
"No. Your mother was a vampire." Lindsey smiled, nostalgically. "Through and through."  
  
Putting a mouthful of pancakes into his mouth, Connor chewed and considered this. "Not really the right person to fall in love with, then."  
  
"Not really."  
  
"Then why did you?" Connor asked.  
  
"Love isn't rational, you know," Lindsey said, a slight patronising tone to his voice. "It's not something you can turn on or off. I loved her. Simple. She was beautiful and smart. And I knew if I could get her, then I'd have one over Angel."  
  
Shaking his head, Connor ate some more pancakes. "You'd never know you're a grown man and he's a vampire. It's like a kid's argument, you two."  
  
"Thanks," said Lindsey. "You know, sometimes I wish I'd never agreed to work for Wolfram and Hart. It was that that started everything. If I'd never worked there, I'd never have had the misfortune of meeting your father. Never have lost my hand." He waved his right hand in front of Connor's face. "Did you know this one's evil?"  
  
Connor nodded, his mouth full of pancakes.  
  
"Never have met Darla." Lindsey's expression became dreamy. "Never have ended up here teaching guitar."  
  
"But you're good at that, aren't you?" Connor said. "I heard you last night. It was great."  
  
His companion shrugged, and leaned back against the side of the booth. "Yeah, I'm good, but it's not much money, you know? That's why I went to Wolfram and Hart, to earn some cash. I wasn't lucky like you. Didn't have rich parents, a nice house, anything I wanted. Wolfram and Hart was a way out of that life, and now here I am back in it."  
  
"They're paying you something, though, aren't they?" Connor guessed.  
  
Lindsey smiled sharply. "They always said Angelus was clever. I didn't see much of that in Angel, but it seems he's passed it on." Connor looked at the tabletop. "I get paid a retainer, in case they need my services again. Just that. And Lilah was happy to help when I called her, to find me the vampires and the demons. To be honest, I hoped one of them would kill Angel as well as getting you. No such luck." Lindsey sipped his coffee, grimaced, and put the mug down. "How is Lilah?"  
  
Thinking back to the tall, elegant lawyer, Connor put down his fork. "Terrified of Dad."  
  
"Nothing's changed," sighed Lindsey. He met Connor's eyes. "Are you still convinced he's your father? Against all the odds, all the lore?"  
  
Connor leant across the table. "For years before I found out I had these weird dreams. All yellow eyes and fangs."  
  
"Nightmares," said Lindsey.  
  
"No, they weren't," Connor said. "I never woke up scared. I was reassured by them, somehow, I guess. And a couple of times, when I'm angry, I've seen things happen to my own eyes. My hearing's better than average and I can move, if I want."  
  
"I saw the physical ed reports from your high school," Lindsey said. Connor stared. "Money, Connor. Gets anyone anything. You don't think all of that is just because of Darla? We know she was your mother, that's not in any doubt."  
  
"It's not just that," Connor said, not sure exactly how to explain. "I just . I just know. I knew, I think, before I'd even seen him. I'm sorry, I guess. I suppose it's tough if you think you're a parent, and then you find you're not. But you're not my father, Mr McDonald."  
  
For a long moment, Lindsey was silent, studying Connor's face. Connor found himself desperate to look away, but he held the blue-eyed gaze and the cool scrutiny, and eventually the other man nodded, and shrugged again.  
  
"Fair enough. I'll leave you then, Connor. Tell Angel I won't bother coming after you again. I have a feeling he'd really kill me if I did, and though I don't love my life, I don't hate it that much. Safe journey home."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Connor watched as Lindsey McDonald left a few dollars on the table and got up and walked out, hands in pockets and head down. He finished his own brunch slowly and thoughtfully, before paying for his own food and heading out into the daylight. 


	11. Epilogue

Disclaimer: see chapter 1 --  
  
"Take care, all right?" Angel's hands were in his pockets, and his gaze was intense. Connor nodded.  
  
"I've told you I'll be careful. But I don't think anything's going to happen, not now. Why should anything happen?"  
  
"There are worse things out there than Lindsey McDonald," his father said. "You're still my son. Anything you see, call me." Connor nodded again. "Call me," Angel repeated. "I mean it, Connor. I'm only a short journey away."  
  
"It's not like I'm not planning on ever seeing you," Connor laughed. "Aren't we doing that theater trip next week?"  
  
Hs father rolled his eyes. "Yes. What was it, something in space?"  
  
"Set on Mars," Connor said. "Modern culture, Dad."  
  
"Give me a tavern and some pretty girls any day," Angel returned, affecting an Irish accent. Connor snorted.  
  
"And we all know how that went," he said.  
  
Angel's face became serious. "Darla was more than a pretty girl. She was a beautiful woman, and a devil in disguise."  
  
"And my mother," Connor said. "Though I still find it weird that Lindsey loved her, when he knew she was a vampire. It's just strange." He paused. "But then, Buffy loved you, and she knew you were a vampire."  
  
"I hope you're not comparing Buffy to Lindsey McDonald," his father replied.  
  
"Nah." Connor shook his head. "I just mean that sometimes love is strange." He glanced over his shoulder at the slender figure waiting for him by the door to his dorm, and smiled. "When it hits."  
  
His father nodded. "Bring Kirsty round, sometime. If it works out with you two."  
  
"I have to hope she'll accept me, first," Connor said softly. "Then she'll have to accept you. I don't want a girlfriend who's scared of my dad." Angel smiled, and Connor went to hug him. "Keep safe. I don't want Cordy or Gunn coming round with you in a pot."  
  
"Not a good plan," agreed Angel. "Okay. Enjoy classes."  
  
Connor sighed. "Classes. Great."  
  
His father looked stern. "Education is important. Enjoy them."  
  
"I'll try."  
  
They exchanged grins, and then Angel suddenly got into the car and started the engine. Connor stood back from the road and watched as the convertible pulled away, and raised a hand to it. Then he turned, and walked slowly over to the girl waiting for him by the door, and they went inside.  
  
THE END.  
  
Author's notes: for now. I'm now returning to my other ongoing saga, that of the Breton - provided rapacious Lord of the Rings plot-bunnies will allow it, that is. Hope you enjoyed this one; please leave a comment in any case! 


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